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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27788452">Time Enough For Games</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Omnibee13/pseuds/Omnibee13'>Omnibee13</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Devil May Cry</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Children, Family Fluff, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff so fkn sweet you'll rot your teeth, Other, PreDMC, Tickling, no beta we die like men</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-11 01:34:23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,520</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27788452</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Omnibee13/pseuds/Omnibee13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Soon, they’d be too old for such games. That was the natural order of things. Babies grew to children, and children to men. It’d be sad to know one day, his boys would outgrow him. </p><p>But Sparda had many years left to spend with them, before that ever happened.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>39</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Time Enough For Games</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sparda was never certain what to do with his boys, when he had them all to himself. They reminded him of foals; all legs and wide eyes, unsteady on their feet and skittish. Compared to them, Sparda was a giant, muscled and tall. Dante was the younger, and usually easier to find than his elder brother, Vergil. The boy was loud, a talker, and his voice carried. Vergil, on the other hand, was quiet and soft-spoken when he did speak, though his tantrums could sometimes be true barn-burners. It was if he kept all that rage inside and when the bucket got too full, did it ever explode. The added benefit to Dante’s chatter-box nature was that he would usually use it against Vergil, so where Dante was to be found, so was Vergil. </p><p>Besides, these were also his boys. His twins. They looked like him, in a way and after a fashion. As babies, they were just squalling little pink things. Now, as small children, they had personalities and quirks, and sometimes, they were very amusing. And they were Cambions. Rare Cambions, who could one day bring all the world to heel.. </p><p>The twins were as unused to Sparda as Sparda felt unused to him. They had to look up, far up to get a good look at him, and he felt as if he’d have to crouch to get a good look at them. </p><p>So when Sparda was attempting to do some menial work in his study, and the twins peeked in on him, curious, he was surprised. Sometimes it seemed as though the boys were frightened of him, but lead by Dante, Vergil was nigh fearless, and vice versa, depending on the situation. Schemes and puzzle solving, that was Vergil’s game. Climbing trees and scraping knees and facing “monsters” was Dante’s territory. Sparda assumed he fell into the latter category. </p><p>Both boys were dressed, as Eva generally tried to dress them. Vergil, in black, with a high neck, and long sleeves, with his hair swept back, not unlike how Sparda tried to wear his own hair; Dante, in white, a looser shirt than Vergil’s, buttoned up, but off-kilter.. One side was longer than the other, as Dante hadn’t yet quite mastered buttons. Both boys were barefoot, which was probably why Sparda hadn’t heard them approaching. Now, they stood at his door looking like fawns before the wolf. </p><p>Sensing he’d get no work done that afternoon, Sparda set down the tome he was studying from, his desk littered with them, among scrolls and scribblings on loose papers. He motioned to allowed the curious twins in, and they moved, almost as one being, inside. Not for the first time, Sparda wondered what it’d be like to have a twin. He’d watch them exchange looks, before acting, and he felt like they’d have had an entire conversation in that look that only lasted a split second. In Hell, the demon that sired him was unknown, but the demon that bore him was the fallen Angel and renowned whore, Astaroth. Not exactly the nana Eva would approve of..</p><p>Those niggling thoughts aside, Sparda found himself in the middle of playtime with his twins. It all started off fairly routine. He was a jungle gym, first, Dante around one leg, Vergil hanging onto an arm. Sparda then had one hanging from each arms as he made exaggerated grunting noises, displaying his clearly superior strength. This devolved into him ending up on all fours, attempting to wrestle Vergil, while the more enterprising child ended up astride his back. </p><p>Feeling Dante on his back, Sparda reached up, grabbed a skinny ankle and tugged. Dante squealed, gripping the tyrian purple vest in two fists to keep from being drug off. Vergil was already pinned under Sparda’s other hand, but he lay there, mostly wide eyed, and watched, both of his hands around the adult’s wrist. It took some wrestling, plenty of shrieking, and even more grappling, until Sparda had all four little hands in his one hand, and them all pinned to the floor as he did so. </p><p>Now it was a game to be played. Sparda would probably do it more often, just because Vergil’s panicked face was almost too funny to be real. Dante, by contrast, was already giggling like a fiend, kicking out and trying to squirm free. Vergil was just shaking his head back and forth, desperate to be let go of what was about to happen. Sparda’s free hand hovered high, fingers wriggling slightly as he raised it. </p><p>“I’m going to get you,” he threatened, playfully enough. Dante attempted to kick again and Sparda had to rear back slightly to avoid getting a mouthful of little foot. He grabbed that ankle, almost lifted Dante so much that his rear was up off the rug. “Can I eat this?”</p><p>“Nononono!” Dante squealed, shaking his head from side to side, while Vergil looked horrified. Sparda, out of the corner of his eye, saw the latter’s toes curl. The twins really did share a brain and a soul sometimes. </p><p>“No?” Sparda asked, feigning ignorance. He mimed going to bite it and Dante, ever the little monkey, used his other to try to push on Sparda’s hand. “Alright. I won’t. What should I do?”</p><p>“Let us go,” Vergil attempted, weakly, but Sparda just winked.</p><p>“In time~” He raised that menacing hand again. “Who’s first?”</p><p>Sometimes, despite their shared hearts and minds, the twins would turn on each other. Dante would throw Vergil under the bus, Vergil would throw Dante, or sometimes, they’d fall on their swords and agree to go first. Dante was too wound up for much words outside of giggling and shrieks, but Vergil paled and just shook his head, as Sparda descended on him.</p><p>In all ways but personality, the twins were identical. Both were probably normally ticklish for boys their age; being Cambions probably didn’t contribute or pull from that facet, but then again, maybe little kids were just naturally kind of ticklish? Sparda had no idea. </p><p>“Ready?” Sparda said, drawing the word out, that same evil hand descending with cruel slowness. They’d play this game before, even if the rules were terribly one sided and unwritten. It’d not start in earnest, until Vergil – introverted, bookish, all at once terribly shy and boldly proud, Vergil – cracked. </p><p>And crack he did. Like an egg. Vergil, though still looking as a man ready to face the hangman, had his mouth twitched into a smile, nervous and wide eyed, as a giggle started to bubble in his skinny chest. Sparda descended then, his free hand attacking Vergil’s ribs. His child shrieked, and flailed, pulling hard at the iron-like grip that kept his arms raised and his tickle spots well exposed. Dante hadn’t yet even been touched, but he was laughing too, though it increased in volume when Sparda turned his attentions onto him. Back and forth it went, Dante’s belly, then Vergil’s, then one’s hips, then the other, if Sparda could pinch at little knees without getting slammed in the face, he’d do that a few times, until the laughing turned into hiccups and small gasps. </p><p>“Alright,” he said, trying to soothe. “Last one.” He lifted Dante’s loose white shirt and pressed a raspberry to the area just above his belly button. Dante shrieked and bucked, forcing Sparda to pull his head back before he got hit in the face. Why Dante always seemed sticky was beyond him, but Vergil had stolen his attention by pulling, desperate, at his hands, trying to get away. </p><p>He shook his head, eyes wide, mouthing “no, no, no” as he caught his breath. </p><p>“It’s just tickles, Vergil,” Sparda said, deeply amused. “You act like I’m killing you..” Sparda sighed and released their hands, leaving them panting for breath on his carpet. He tried to use both hands on Vergil, though, on either side of his skinny chest, which cause the boy to shriek and again dissolve into hysterics, his legs curling up near his chest, his arms clamping down to his sides to try to protect himself, and curling into a ball. Just for a moment, though, because then Sparda stopped and ruffled his pale white hair. “There. All done. Ready for a nap?”</p><p>Unsurprisingly, neither twin nodded, both shaking their heads, vehemently. This ran in stark contrast to their appearances, both disheveled, out of breath, and laying with their eyes closed. Sparda sat back on his knees. </p><p>“Could fool me,” he said, airily. “Up, then. Go find and pester your dear mother. Up.” It was slow at first, but the twins got to their feet, newborn foals, and quickly scrambled out. Eventually, Sparda couldn’t hear the clamor of their running anymore, as they hurried own the hall. </p><p>.. Sparda sighed, slow to get up off the floor himself. </p><p>Soon, they’d be too old for such games. That was the natural order of things. Babies grew to children, and children to men. It’d be sad to know one day, his boys would outgrow him. </p><p>But he had many years left to spend with them, before that ever happened.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>People are going to think I only write tickling fiction and BOY does it sure seem that way. More like, offline, I was discussing this with a friend while waiting for my invite to come and, well, here we are. I read too much Visions of V and bitty!Vergil makes my heart hurt...<br/>Speaking of making your heart hurt, HAHA SPARDA YOU THINK YOU HAVE YEARS WITH YOUR BABIES? [laughs and cries in Mundus being a dick]</p><p>Feel free to leave comments. I take requests on my Tumblr, omniverbosity@tumblr.com.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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